


Let This War Rage On

by bloodcellspixilate



Category: Peterick - Fandom, Ryden - Fandom, gabilliam - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodcellspixilate/pseuds/bloodcellspixilate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump the heir to his father's fortune becomes unsatisfied with his life, he searches for a more dangerous and boozy path that lands him with number one infamous criminal, Pete Wentz. Will Patrick see Pete's flaws or will he follow in the shallow steps of a man he lusts for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let This War Rage On

Patrick had always been a fan of the sauce, so prohibition was a killer and he had to actually listen to his wife. To be honest there was nothing wrong with Rose, not a damn thing, well besides the fact that she wasn't Patrick's cup of tea. His liver and mind were aching for a double scotch on the rocks mid-dinner party, he sat in his corner while his wife roamed the halls alone mingling with the other saucy women, many of whom had tried their hand at Patrick, all married with deceitful husbands, half of which Patrick had slept with. He gives Brendon a wink as he walks by and watches him squirm next to his wife Gloria, no matter the party Patrick has a spot he wanders to every now and then to drink, he slips from the party and walks the Chicago streets alone, music coming from every open window. Patrick drowns in the sweet melancholy of trumpets and crying female singers, he listens to them chime about their hardships. Everyone has their own hardship right? Patrick's just so happens to be that he's a gay man who enjoys the sauce and some spice in his life. Then again it's not Rose's fault her father went bankrupt, family lost everything and they were old friends of Patrick's family and they did them a favor. It was Patrick's job to take care of Rose now, which he did, he just didn't want to sleep with her. Patrick wouldn't mind lending her money while they remained friends, but he would be a disgrace if he did that, so he remained married to her. Patrick finally reaches Ryan's Barber Shoppe, he walks in to Ryan sweeping up shavings off the floor.   
"Howdy Rick, haven't seen you for a few days, wife got your knickers in a bunch?"  
"Nah, not so much her Ry as much as it is all the hubblah in my house. I mean what does a man have to do to get a little damn peace and quiet around his house? Still open?"  
"Sure is, ya know the drill. Talk to you later Rick."  
"Take it easy Ry," Patrick knocks on the wall filled with pictures and one slides open revealing two pairs of brown eyes.   
"Ricky! Come in sport!" The door opens up to reveal a 6'4" dark toned man by the name of Gabriel. He wears a purple suit trimmed with gold, he looks cheesy as all hell compared to Patrick dressed in a black pin-stripe suit with a gold tie and a black fedora. Patrick takes his hat off and places it on the rack along with his coat displaying his white button up, he rolls the sleeves up and walks down the stairs. Gabriel follows him to their regular booth, Patrick nods to Spencer behind the bar and within three minutes he's sipping a double scotch on the rocks and sitting back listening to Gabriel's man on the mic.  
"How are you and William?"  
"Oh just peachy, he's got some new songs in him, feeling inspired ya know? You should move out to North Shore, no one out there cares about another human being. Privacy is the norm out there."  
"And do what with my wife? 'Sorry hun, I like to take it up the ass from other men'? No Gabe doesn't work like that, besides I have to take care of her. If I don't who will?"   
"You could pay her to forget about you, say you two just couldn't get along? She could just keep her mouth shut, tell you what I know a guy Nate Navarro he could handle the situation..."  
"I'm not threatening my wife with the mob Gabriel. Out of the question, I'll stick to my chippies here at the club, tons of men willing to make mistakes." The two sit in silence for a long while, listening to William belt out a song about it being a man's world, several of the men in the club tug at their trousers, Gabe laughing at every last one of them. Out of the corner of Patrick's eye he sees a man, dark cinnamon skin, grin the size of a Cheshire cat's, and he's eyeing Patrick over the rim of a glass. Patrick raises his eyebrows and the other man follows, and in that moment Patrick knows he's won him. Patrick saunters over to the cinnamon skinned man and sits next to him at the bar.   
"Can I get you another?"   
"I say sure, but your wedding ring says you're playing a hard game." Patrick glances down at the exposed metal around his finger he slides it off in a quick attempt to hide his nuptials. "Relax slick, buy me a drink and we'll talk." The man slides a hand over Patrick's and the night seems promising again.   
"Spence two doubles on the rocks please." Spencer nods and shoots them two glasses.   
"So slick, what do you do?"  
"My father owns a rail company, and oil company, I'm his successor. You?"  
"Richy rich huh? I run an organized crime gang." Patrick all but nearly spits out his drink. "Easy slick that's some of my finest. The name's Wentz... Pete Wentz, and if we're going to get this show on the road, I say we take it back to my hotel. That is if you're into biting the pillow."  
"Ah yes, yeah sure. Right now?"  
"Right now, Mr. Stump, you, me, and a quiet hotel room. Shall we?"  
"How'd you...?"  
"Rail company and oil company? Doesn't take a genius to figure out who you are. We can discuss further in my room. Besides I was just leaving after I dropped off the latest shipment. We'll take my car, sound good slick?" Patrick nods at Pete's offer and the two leave out the back, Patrick waving Gabe off. They climb into the back of Pete's car it's solid red with gold accents and white leather seats.   
"Navarro, my room please, Mr. Stump and I will be spending the evening there. You can come back for your friend if you wish."  
"Thanks boss," the driver says in a thick New York accent. They speed through the streets of Chicago until they reach a hotel Patrick is all too familiar with.   
"Where you take your men? Keep 'em away from your wife?"   
"Y-yeah but how did...?"  
"Many more scandalous things happen in this hotel other than peter puffing Mr. Stump..."  
"Patrick, my name is Patrick, my father is Mr. Stump."   
"Well then, Patrick, shall we?" Pete helps Patrick out of the car and they continue to the elevator Patrick has been in one too many times, but they pass Patrick's floor, the eighth floor and continue to the penthouse on the ninth floor which is just above Patrick's penthouse. They cross the golden threshold and Pete removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves to expose tattoos up and down his arms.   
"Spent some time in Hawaii, did you know they've been tattooing since before the 20th century? It's very interesting the way they do it, all needlepoint. Very long and tiring, but it was worth it. Any tattoos Rick?"  
"Ah, no clean slate, as far as it goes." Patrick responds taking a drink from Pete.   
"Join me by the couch just in front of the city view? It's my favorite view, I can see most of Chicago this way, home sweet home."  
"You live here, I never see you when I come to this hotel."  
"You wouldn't, I live in New York, little place called the Bronx, hard to beat, but has the best shady places for meetings. And the best speakeasies. You a speakeasy man Rick?"  
"Well of course, who isn't?"  
"Thatta sport. Tell you what slick, how about you show me what those pretty little lips can do?"   
"My pleasure Mr. Wentz," Patrick drops to his knees in front of the giant window as Pete takes a long sip of brandy, Patrick's hands masterfully unhook Pete's pants and the zipper falls with ease, Patrick relieves the man's member and gives him a wet stripe up the base, Pete's head falls back with a moan. Patrick curls his lips around the cinnamon skinned man's member and allows his head to bob and meet with his hand, Pete's low moans begin to escalate as Patrick twines his fingers through the thin amount of pubes above Pete's member, he gives them a small tug and it brings Pete crumbling, calling out Patrick's name. Patrick swallows the last bit of Pete, he let's off with a popping noise and licks his lips.   
"You are truly something else Rick. Come sit down by me, enjoy the view."  
"I was actually going to go relieve myself..."  
"Nonsense, sit your ass down, I'll take care of you myself." As Patrick sits Pete takes his place on the floor and it's Patrick's turn to enjoy the view, but he's too fixated by the cinnamon lips curled around his cock, the dark brown eyes looking up for approval as he massages Patrick's balls. Within seconds Patrick is coming undone spilling hot spurts down Pete's throat. Once the two men are situated back on the couch a heavy and satisfied silence lies between them.   
"I didn't just bring you up here to suck me off Rick. I brought you up here because you intrigue me. Son of a wealthy businessman, married to an absolutely gorgeous broad, and yet here you are sucking my cock, and this is not your first time. I can tell, you're skilled, plus you've admitted to me you've been with other men. Let me guess they're married just like you, your wife is friends with their wives?"  
"I never kiss and tell Mr. Wentz, however I will say this, dinner parties are never dull for me."  
"Oh but they are Rick, they're too mundane for you, you hate the married lifestyle you've been given, you hate everything about your easy life. You want something fast and dangerous, you want something to match yourself. A fast, dangerous, man who will sleep with other men if it means he's got something on them. I know you Mr. Stump, I know you well, I've done my research, plus I wanted to know who owned the penthouse under me. Now I know where I can find you to spend time."  
"Who said this wasn't just a one time deal Mr. Wentz?" Patrick raises an eyebrow at the other man by him, Patrick knows there damn well better be other times, but he doesn't want to come across desperate.  
"Trust me, Mr. Stump, I can make your life how you want it, follow me and there will be many more exhilarating nights. That I can promise you. Ever robbed a bank then fucked on top the money? Ever made liquor then bent the other person over one of the barrels and had your way? I can make that your life, Patrick, you just say the word."  
"Let me mull it over chippy."  
"Oh I'm the chippy, slick?"  
"Better than being called a Whore."  
"Yet still the equivalent. Mull it over sweetheart. Take your time. We really should be getting you back home to your darling wife as she tries to consummate the marriage another night. Shall we?" Patrick eyes the hand stretched towards him and takes it, Pete leads him out the door and back into his car where they speed to Patrick's manor on the South Shore where all the old money lived. As Patrick climbs out of the car Pete places a card in his hand.  
"Give us a call chippy."  
"Might as well call me a Whore to your standards."  
"Nah I'm not that mean." Patrick waves the man off and walks inside to an empty house that watches his empty marriage, on the couch sits Rose in her night gown.  
"Just where the hell have you been?"  
"Out, Rose, I've been out, Jesus."  
"Don't you lie to me Rick, you've been throwing away our money on those illegal bars haven't you?!"  
"Shut up, Rose, I haven't been to a bar since prohibition dammit. Now go to bed!" Patrick storms upstairs and lays down in bed, Rose joins him an hour later still cold from their fight. Pete's promise seems even more tempting now.


End file.
